


All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You (Say You Will; You Want Me Too)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Glee
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Sexual Content, coarse language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was hard to let go of a dream for reality… It wasn't that he was better or that I loved him more… It was just that I had married him, committed myself to him… I'd resolved to let go of you and then… Then I had you…"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You (Say You Will; You Want Me Too)

She snored. He smirked, 'cause she'd never admit it. Not that she could tell anyway, since she was sleeping, but if he mentioned that she had this soft, light snore that was actually kinda soothing, she got all pissy and, "Noah, I  _don't_ snore… I'm sure it's the air conditioner." Yeah, fuck that, he didn't  _have_  AC; shit was expensive. He had a nice loft apartment on the cheap 'cause he knew the guy who ran the building and he was pretty sure it was illegal  _not_ to have a fire escape outside his window, but whatever. It was all red brick and open, no walls in the way between his bedroom, kitchen and living room. He didn't even bother with that dining room shit; he just ate on the couch, in front of the flat screen that set him back  _way_ too much. Games needed high def and he loved his sports.

The bright lights of New York filtered through the window; blue and red and yellow dancing over her bare body as she laid next to him, a sheet vaguely wrapped around her hips. He remembered thinking she fit there,  _belonged_ there, and he didn't just mean the city but in his life, his  _bed_. And he got her there, eventually. Took way too many years, a broken heart, a bottle of tequila and a lot more convincing from her than he'd have expected. He would have laughed, bitterly, if he didn't know it would wake her up. And when she opened her eyes, she'd be up and out of bed and gathering up her clothes, out the door before he could coax her to relax and just… let him take care of her. She'd been lazier lately though, letting herself stay overnight. In the beginning, eleven months ago, she was scared and confused and guilty. She'd run out with only one shoe on, looking like somebody just told her every stage in New York had burned to ash, telling him that she was sorry, she didn't know what she wanted yet. She always came back though. It was a little hard to avoid him in the first place, seeing as he was her husband's best friend. It was fucked, he knew.

He and Finn had been friends since… Hell, elementary school. They had their rough patches and yeah, it was almost _always_  over a girl. He knocked up Finn's high school sweetheart junior year; even let him think it was his until the secret got out and none other than Rachel Berry herself made sure Finn knew the truth. But they got their shit together, tried the friends thing again, just as soon as he promised to stop making out, or even singing duets with Rachel. He didn't know _why_ , since she and Finn were off by then, but maybe he just wanted the familiarity of old friends, since he sure as shit didn't have many left.

And here he was doing it again; banging his best friend's girl. But it was… different. Yeah, he knew that sounded like a really lame excuse. But Rachel, she was… She was  _special_. Like, walk away from cougars, never give Santana a second look, go to Math class, graduate and get into NYU special. She was his lone cheerleader when he was pretty sure everybody else looked at him and saw Lima Loser stamped on his forehead. She was his study buddy all through senior year; his Jiminy Cricket when he wanted to bust heads; his 'I believe in you' when he wanted to give up. And yeah, somewhere in between actually realizing he might get out of Lima, 'cause he wasn't as dumb as he (or anybody else) thought he was, and moving to New York because, fuck, that's where she was going and she made it sound legit amazing, he fell for her. He didn't  _do_ love though and for the first little while, when he realized what the hell he did, he tried going back to old habits. He banged every chick that offered and he went through his black book of cougars over a two week period that would've made him proud a year prior. And then she came storming in, angrier than ever, and told him he better get his act together, because she wasn't giving up on him and she would be there every day to not only scare off every potential lay but to shove his face in his books until he was an NYU graduate.

He snapped out of it.

He didn't profess his love or some shit, but he stopped boning every 'jezebel' (her word, not his) that crossed his path and he told himself he'd be better; he'd be  _worth_ her. So he packed up his shit and they went to New York and he hit NYU with the kind of resolve he'd never had before. He was doing it; his homework, his classes, and yeah a few parties. He even called home to tell his ma how things were going and when she stopped crying over how proud she was and begging him to marry Rachel, they figured their shit out over his dad leaving when he was a kid. Rachel went to Julliard and hit the Broadway scene running; she starred in a few off-off-Broadway shows for awhile until they started to notice what a BAMF singer she was and she got her foot in the door.

Two years into it all, he was well on his way to getting a degree in music and business, with his best girl at his side (okay, so yeah, they were just friends, but he was like… biding his time or whatever), when Finn Hudson walked back into their lives. Puck had kept in touch with him through Facebook and shit, but they all knew that New York really wasn't his scene, so he didn't expect to hear he was moving down. At first, he was kinda excited. He needed more dudes to hang with, 'cause Rachel and her theatre buddies were rubbing off and he was getting  _way_ too familiar with Broadway legends and the Tony awards and all that jazz. Shit, he even used the term 'all that jazz,' that was so not kosher. So when Finn headed down, he figured it'd be keg stands and football, poker and guys' nights. And then Finn laid eyes on Rachel and it was like the Finchel show version 862. He held his tongue and he let it happen, figuring they'd fizzle out like they always did.

They fought, a  _lot_. 'Cause even if Finn moved his own ass down, he was still talking about one day settling back in Lima, like after Rachel got her Tony award and was  _finished_ with Broadway. Yeah, he knew his buddy was dumb as rocks; he wasn't gonna give him tips on how to make his relationship with Rachel better. But they worked it out, or ignored it; he was pretty sure it was the latter. And one day, Finn proposed. And she… said  _yes_. Now, did he think that was a colossal fucking mistake? You bet your fucking ass. But did he say anything? Nope. Did he stand up and object at their very Christian themed wedding? No. Did he try and talk her out of marrying the high school sweetheart that broke her heart so many times he ran out of tape trying to put it back together? Okay, maybe once or twice, or twelve times at last count. But she didn't listen. She married him and they enjoyed their little wedded bliss for all of about 2.5 seconds. Until Finn said he wanted kids… Like,  _yesterday_.

And Rachel, who was twenty-two, said she didn't want to have kids until she was twenty-five, or older. At the very least, not until she'd gotten her first Tony award, because she needed to focus and put all of her spectacular energy (and she had bucket loads) into achieving her ultimate goal. Finn didn't understand. Finn didn't  _care_. Okay, maybe that was just Puck being, well,  _Puck_ , but from where he was sitting, Finn didn't see Rachel's dreams as being half as important as  _his_. So when Finn kept bringing up the fact that he wanted to start a family and move back to Lima, the cracks in their very new marriage really started to show. And Puck pretended he had no idea where the glue was. He listened to Finn bitch about how unfair she was being and how sick of New York and show tunes he was. He was there to hold Rachel when she cried; to give her flowers on opening night when her husband forgot she even had a play in the works; to tell her that  _no_ , wanting Broadway and stardom wasn't wrong or stupid or selfish. Legit, he wasn't just doing it to get into her pants; he really wanted her to be happy. And yeah, okay, he'd been in love with her for like… five years, maybe longer if he wanted to dredge up old history, but Rachel never did things the easy way and he was trying really hard to pretend the ring on her finger meant anything to him.

And then one night, she showed up at his apartment. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her smile fake and wobbly, and she held up a bottle of Jose Cuervo.

He opened the door a little wider and let her in.

It took her two shots before she told him what was up.

"I hate Lima."

He cocked a brow. "Join the club."

Her nose wrinkled and her lips quirked as her eyes darted to him from where she was curled up in the corner of his couch, wearing his old football jersey, 'cause apparently her clothes were too confining and she wanted to relax. She went straight to his room, dug it out, stripped her pencil skirt and blouse off, and walked out with all that long, tanned leg on show. He knew she spent most of her time around dudes who really couldn't care what went on under her clothes, but she sure as fuck knew  _he_ did. Friends or not, he hit on her, often, and had been for so long that it was just second nature. Even her gay actor friends said they could feel the hetero heat coming off them in waves.

"No, Noah…" She sighed, resting her head back against the cushion. "I  _hate_  Lima. I don't…" She balled her hands into fists. "I don't  _ever_ want to go back there and  _he…_ " She shook her head. "He's so  _adamant_  that our lives will begin and end there and I…"

He frowned, leaning back and waiting for her to get her thoughts together, 'cause there was no way she was done. Rachel was the monologue type; nothing was ever simple.

"I always imagined that my life would begin,  _truly_ begin, when I got to New York…" She peered up at him from big, brown eyes. "That my greatest experiences, my career, my dream life would start here and eventually…" She shook her head. "I wanted to raise my children here. Become a stage legend that people begged for autographs or pictures with…" Her brows furrowed. "I wanted to live out the rest of my long and illustrious life under the bright stage lights of Broadway and to walk through this cityscape that I love so  _much_ …" Her face fell. "And he doesn't want that… He doesn't…  _see_ that in his future."

She chewed her lip and played with the shot glass in her lap. "When we were in high school, I mapped it out… I decided Finn would be my leading man for the rest of my life and we-we would be so  _lucky_ to have each other…" Her eyes darted around. "But I never put a life together for him, Noah. I never figured out a career path for him or tried to find what would make him happy here in New York… He was just  _there_ , at my side, while I accomplished all of my dreams…" She swallowed tightly. "And now I look at him and I think… He doesn't  _fit!_  Not here, not with…" Her voice caught and her eyes filled with tears.

Not with  _her_.

He licked his lips, wanting her to say it; to realize it; to put an end to all this pointless, crazy bullshit.

And then her brows furrowed. "I-I could be happy there though, couldn't I?" She stared up at him hopefully,  _pleadingly_. "I could live in Lima and-and teach music or-or dance… I-I could teach a student just like myself, looking for the same dreams, and send her off into the world with that same resolve I had. I…" She inhaled shakily. "I could raise my children while he runs Burt's tire shop an-and…" Her shoulders started shaking and she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed, shot glass falling to the couch cushion, forgotten.

Sighing, he grabbed it up and then reached across the table and poured them both a shot. He knocked back his and then held hers out to her, bumping it against her knuckles.

Sniffling, she raised her head and took it, guzzling it back and coughing through her tears. "Tequila is  _awful_ ," she told him.

He snorted. "You brought it."

She glared. "I was obviously distracted."

He shrugged. Reaching out, he hooked his arm around her shoulders and dragged her over so she was pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder. "You really wanna move to Lima, Rach?"

She slid her arm around his waist and just sat there a long few silent minutes. "I'd be happy never to see Lima again."

He stroked her hair lightly and then with a quick, teasing tug to her earlobe, he looked down at her and raised a brow. "So don't."

She gazed back at him, her eyelashes still damp with tears, her lower lip full and red from biting it. "Noah…" her voice was a breathless whisper.

He felt the tension, the heat between them; the same he'd felt when they were juniors in high school and he was trying to convince her he was better for her than Jessie.

"Would you… I-I mean…" She shook her head, gathering her thoughts. "When you look into your future, where are you?"

He reached up slowly and brushed her hair back off her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Front row and center, watching you blow away the crowd with that powerhouse voice of yours…" He wasn't shitting her either; loving her and wanting her aside, he was always gonna be in crazy Berry's life.

She let out a little broken sigh. "Did you bring me flowers?"

He chuckled a little. "Pink roses."

"And…" Her brows furrowed. "And your future wife, Noah? Did she come?"

He stared at her. "You don't want me to answer that, Rach…"

Her eyes widened a fraction and then fell. "No… I'm not sure I do." She rested her head back against him and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "Finn isn't there, is he?"

He sighed, his chin falling against the top of her head. "No."

Her shoulders slumped. "I don't… I can't see him in my future either…" she whispered. "Does that make me an awful wife?"

"For  _him?_  Probably."

She scoffed, slapping his chest. "Noah!"

He chuckled. "You wanted the truth."

Sighing, she snuggled her face against him. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't let him charm me again… Hadn't fallen for that sweet smile of his… That I'd-I'd just stayed friends with him and never let myself get caught up in high school dreams and desires."

He rubbed her arm soothingly. "But…?"

"But then I wonder if maybe I  _had_  to… If I was  _meant_ to meet him again; fall for him again…" She shook her head. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."

He hugged her tight. "You wanna know what I think…?"

She was quiet, hesitant, before finally admitting, "Yes."

"If he was the right guy, he wouldn't ask you to move back… And if you were the right girl for  _him_  you'd have already left for Lima and never looked back."

The room was silent then and she just lay there, leaned into him, fingers darting out to draw shapes and letters against his chest; he could feel every touch like fire searing into his skin.

"I need another drink," she told him.

He grinned, reaching for the bottle. He knocked back a swig himself and then handed it to her, licking his lips.

"That's very unsanitary," she told him, but wrapped her lips around the end anyway.

They didn't talk about Finn after that. Instead she asked him, "Did I ever tell you what happened with Rebecca's understudy and those rumors involving her sleeping with the director?"

He cocked a brow and settled in for a long story.

She used to complain that Finn never cared, that he zoned out when she talked about her friends or her work; he remembered doing that in high school. Somewhere along the way, he started paying attention; absorbing all the crazy shit that happened with the people she knew. Theatre people took drama to a whole new level and he actually  _liked_ hearing about it. Maybe it was just her voice; he loved the sound of it. Maybe it was the way her face lit up, animated, when she spoke about the people she cared about, or the ones she didn't. Maybe it was just because he liked knowing things, about her and her life, that Finn never took the time to care about. Either way, he sat there and he listened to her talk and babble for a couple hours, and then he gave in to her prodding and talked about school and yeah, sure, he was excited about his coming graduation. No, seriously, he didn't want her to throw him a party; didn't stop her from planning one right then and there while she played with his fingers through.

They talked about music and she updated him on what Kurt was doing with his whole fashion thing. She talked him into playing his guitar for her while she lay sprawled with her legs in the air and her chin in her hands. She clapped for him and told him he was going to break hearts with that voice of his. They reminisced over glee club a little and he talked about his dad some. She asked about his mom and he reminded her that she broke his ma's heart when she married Tall, Dumb and Awkward. And they drank, and drank some more, and then the bottle was empty and he was feeling  _awesome_.

It was some time around 2am and they were both nicely buzzed; she was tipsier than him, but he had a long history of handling his liquor. She was a physical drunk, something he'd always liked in the past, when he could talk her into hitting the parties on campus with him. He kept a close eye on her 'cause she wasn't always particular about who she showered with her affection, but it was still good times when he had her stumbling around and yelling that everything tasted and smelled like  _pink_. Since Finn came back, they didn't get to hang out as much and he knew it was partly 'cause, friendship repaired or not, Finn still expected him to try and steal his girl. He couldn't say the thought hadn't crossed his mind; a lot.

She kept sliding her hands up and down his chest and climbing into his lap, nuzzling his neck with her face. "You smell so  _good_ , Noah…" she sighed, breathing him in deeply.

He half-smiled at her, trying really damn hard not to grab her hips and stop her wiggling; she might catch on if he did. It was torture and bliss at the same time. "Same cologne since I was sixteen, babe," he grunted.

"I  _know_ …" She hummed contently, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. "I used to love how you smelled; how every breath I took when you were on top of me or under me was just like—like breathing you right into my  _soul_ …"

His jeans were getting way too tight, especially with her in his lap.

She dragged her fingers down the nape of his neck, where she used to grip the tail-end of his 'hawk before he shaved it off. "After we broke up, I missed that smell," she admitted. "I know  _I_ broke up with you and that I was technically strongly infatuated with Finn, but… The physical chemistry I shared with you…" She shook her head a little. "It was so  _strong_ …"

Fuck  _yeah_ , it was!

He gritted his teeth and tried to keep from reaching out and touching her,  _anywhere_.

"I went to the mall and I searched and searched until I found the brand of cologne you used," she told him. "I would sit there and just smell it, just breathe it in, and imagine… imagine you were there again. Letting me ride on top of you while we kissed, while your hands tried to slide up my skirt or squeeze my breast…" She let out a long sigh and he could feel the heat of it beating against his neck. "And when I was…  _worked up_ , I'd dab it on my skin… On my neck or between my breasts, even just my wrist so I could sniff it while I worked my other fingers up under my—"

"Rachel," he cut her off hoarsely, his voice low and deep.

She rocked her hips down as she sat up so they were face to face. Her eyes were a little glazed and he knew—He  _knew_ he should stop this. "Baby, you're really drunk…"

She nodded, biting her lip hard. As his eyes fell to her mouth, hers too fell to stare at his lips. "And wet."

He felt those words deep into his bones; his whole body shuddering with the effort of restraint. Groaning, he tried to shake his head.

"You want me, Noah," she murmured, reaching her hands up and around his neck, thumbs stroking back and forth. "Tell me you want me…  _Please_ …"

He dragged a hand up her back and gripped her shoulder. "Course I want you… I  _always_ want you, but—"

"No buts," she argued, shaking her head. She scraped her nails across his shoulders. "I've been listing all the 'buts' about you in my head since I was sixteen and I'm tired of lying to myself."

His brows knotted as he looked up at her questioningly. "You—"

"Shh…" she murmured, leaning in until their noses bumped. "I want you inside me…"

His breath caught.

"Noah, I want to just bury my face in you and breathe you in while you fuck me."

His fingers dug into her shoulder.

"I want to feel your cock and not my fingers when I think of you."

"R-Rach—"

"I  _still_ think of you…" She rolled her hips down against the achingly hard erection pressing painfully up into his jeans. "Make me feel good…  _Wanted_ …" She tipped her chin and bit his lip, her teeth dragging it out. " _Love me_ , Noah."

His restraint snapped and that was it.

He didn't care if she was married; if Finn was wondering where she was; if tomorrow she'd call him a mistake and pretend it never happened. Tonight, he could have her; tonight, she was telling him she wanted him. And he'd been waiting so fucking long for this moment there was no way he was wasting it.

He caught her mouth in a bruising kiss; she moaned as their teeth gnashed and his tongue darted forward, reaching for hers. She dug her nails into his neck, gripped his shoulders, his biceps, anywhere to keep herself steady as he assaulted her lips with years of pent up frustration and desire. She gave as good as she got; even tipsy, Rachel Berry could kiss the breath right out of his lungs. They slid sideways and she maneuvered them so she was on top, grinning proudly when she straddled his waist and dragged his shirt up and out of the way. She bent her body and pressed her lips into his abdomen, scraping her teeth and dragging her tongue along the ridges of his stomach. She kissed up and across his ribs, settling over his nipples, licking and biting each, taking the time to tug on the ring he had re-pierced after the juvie bullshit. She shuffled his shirt up higher and he lifted his shoulders so she could pull it right off and toss it away. She kneaded his shoulders, his biceps, while she buried her face in his neck, laving her tongue along his Adam's apple. Her hips rocked slowly, pressing her panty-covered sex down against him. He swore he could feel her, wet and hot, through the denim of his jeans.

His hands trailed up her thighs, bare and taut against his sides, knees biting down into the couch. He slid them up under the jersey and a part of him kept waiting for her to stop him; to tell him that he hadn't earned that privilege yet. But then he was touching the side of her panties and up along her flat, heaving stomach. He gripped the end of his jersey and pulled it up slowly. She paused, leaned back, and his jaw ticked, wondering if she'd start in on her 'no boobs for this long' rule, but then she grabbed the end of the shirt, pulled it up and off and let it fall haphazardly to the coffee table. She wasn't wearing a bra. He gaped a long few seconds and she laughed warmly.

"Mine certainly aren't the first breasts you've seen, Noah."

Not by a long shot, but fuck if he hadn't been waiting a hell of a long time to see this specific pair… And hell if they weren't the best he'd ever laid eyes on. They were small, sure, but a handful easily. He lifted up to his elbow and took her hand, dragging her forward. Her other hand fell to his chest to keep herself steady. He smirked up at her and she bit her lip at the promise there in his eyes, right before he ducked his head and caught a small, brown nipple between his lips. She arched her back, pressing herself closer, moaning as his tongue lapped at the pebbled center, teeth scraping. He suckled until her hips started ratcheting against him and then he drew back with a  _pop_. She growled,  _legit_ , and leaned into him again. He chuckled a little before switching breasts and giving it the same, drawn out attention. Her nails dug into his chest, her hips rolling, pressing down into him, rocking smoothly until he was nearly busting through his zipper.

His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, fingers hooking in her panties and tugging them down. She leaned back and away, his mouth detaching from her. Before he could ask her what was up, and he didn't even want to since that gave her more time to reconsider what the hell she was doing, her hands feel between her thighs and found the button on his pants; she popped it open and lowered the zipper, shoving it and his Joe boxers meaningfully. When he didn't lift his hips right away, she dragged her knuckles along the outline of his dick.

"Rachel…" Shit, but his little Jiminy Cricket voice was popping up in his head. "Babe, I-I'm not sure I can stop if you keep—"

"I don't want you to stop," she murmured, sliding her hand beneath the fabric of his boxers to grip his shaft firmly. "I want you to  _start_."

He swallowed tightly, his throat dry. "Jesus Christ, you're gonna hate me in the morning."

"Not if you do it right," she returned, shifting to pull him free and stroke her hand up and down, squeezing, twisting, pumping him, and holy  _fuck_ … "Noah,  _please_ , I just want you  _inside_  me..." She leaned over him, his dick rubbing against her belly, leaving a steak of pre-cum across her skin, as she brought her face down to his, her hair falling to curtain around them. "Stop  _thinking_ …"

Fuck if he ever thought  _she_  would be telling  _him_ that…

Not waiting for a reply, she reached back and dragged her panties down, lifting each knee to pull them off before tossing them away. And then she took his hand and led it between her thighs, their fingers rubbing into her wet slit. He reacted automatically, swiping her clit before he pumped a finger deep inside and felt her shake and clench all around him. Her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered. " _Noah_ …"

He passed out. He  _must_  have. He knocked his head on the coffee table and he was lying sprawled on the floor, drooling on the carpet while she muttered about her best friend being a pathetic drunk. 'Cause there was no way this was really happening. After all this time… After seeing her marry Finn and telling himself he lost his chance; she'd never turn around and realize he was there, waiting. After giving up on finding a girl even half as awesome as her and being  _happy_ , for once. But now here he was, with two fingers sliding in and out of her very wet, very tight cunt and he was… Shit, he was  _not_ dreaming. She bent and bit his lip, their noses bumping, and she laughed sweetly.

Using her feet, she shoved at his boxers and jeans again, and he lifted this time, letting her push them halfway down his thighs. He shuffled and kicked until they were off and at the other end of the couch. And then he had her there, riding his fingers, just inches away from his cock. She was panting and writhing and gripping his forearm like she was scared he'd pull away or stop. Fuck  _that_.

He curled his fingers and found  _it_ ; she cried out, thrashing her head as he rubbed his fingers against the spongy little spot that would make her see  _real_ fucking stars. He wondered if Finn ever did this; if he even knew what a g-spot  _was_. Her furrowed brows and gaping mouth said she was shocked as hell that he was making her feel  _that_ good; so he'd put his money on  _no_. "N-Noah,  _please_ ," she begged, her breath hitching thickly.

"Look at me," he demanded.

Her eyes opened and she looked down, staring at him.

He sped up his fingers, his thumb rubbing her clit, and he watched as she fell apart. Her nails dug into his arm so hard they drew blood and the shout that came out of her throat was guttural; a cry of surprise and ecstasy. She never took her eyes off him though; she stared right at him as she came, shuddering and clenching, and soaking his hand with her berry-juice. He smirked, 'cause she'd probably tell him not to call it that. He wiped his fingers on her thigh and then leaned back, staring up at her, seeing if she was gonna come to her senses and walk away. He'd been waiting for that since this started and he still wasn't  _quite_ sure that it was even happening. Wouldn't be the first time he had a very  _realistic_ dream about her.

But when he waited for realization to hit her, it didn't. Instead, she smiled and lowered her hips, leaning forward so their chests were pressed together and her cheek was on his shoulder. And then she was suckling at his neck, in that  _spot_ that always made him— "Fuuuck…" His hips jerked up and he felt her; wet and hot and spread wide. She wiggled herself back a little and he was spread lengthwise against her slit; he could feel her clit, hard against the base of his shaft.

He buried a hand in her hair and gripped tight, trying to catch his breath. She just rocked herself back against him, coating him. Her breasts rubbed his chest every time she moved; he could feel her nipples.

She licked the taut tendon of his neck and nipped it with her teeth before nuzzling her way up to his mouth.

His hands swept down her back, her skin so fucking soft it was criminal, and cupped her ass tight, squeezing as she nibbled around his lips, soothing each bite with her tongue.

Her hands gripped his shoulders then and she sat up a little. "You're ready?"

He half-smiled a little. "Shouldn't I be asking  _you_ that?"

She looked amused. "I'm ready. You're the one hesitating here."

"Yeah, 'cause you're drunk and…" He let out a long breath. "Rach, there's no going back…" He stared at her searchingly. "You're not gonna forget that we fucked… That I was  _inside_ you." He knew  _he_ wouldn't…

Her lips pursed. "Who said I wanted to forget?" She pushed her hips back and he felt the tip of his dick rub along her slit, bumping her clit before it slid into place. Not waiting for his response, she sunk down on him until ever inch was wrapped up in her wet heat. His entire body spasmed; every muscle clenching.

He threw his head back, trying to remember how to breathe. "Oh  _fuck_ …"

She didn't move for a whole minute, just quivering around him, adjusting.

"B-Babe, you  _need_ to move," he begged, his toes curling into the couch.

"You feel so  _good_ ," she moaned, clenching.

Fuck, he was gonna blow his load way too early if she kept that shit up. "It's been six years of waiting, do  _not_ make me fuck this up," he grunted.

She braced herself on his chest and lifted her hips, rolling them, and brought herself all the way up until just the tip of him was inside her, and then she slammed back down. He gripped her thighs, fingers digging in, and tilted his hips, lifting to meet her movements. When he used to think of Rachel, back in high school, he thought she'd want soft, slow lovemaking. It'd be all light touches and candles and silk sheets and she'd need all that romance bull to get her off. Later, he let himself fantasize about how he'd fuck her into the bed and make her scream. Now, actually being inside her, he felt more like  _she_ was fucking  _him_. Good as it felt, and it was fan-fucking-tastic, he couldn't have that.

He sat up abruptly, arms wrapping around her waist, and turned her over so she was sprawled on her back. Her knees were lifted high up on his sides; he grabbed one leg and tossed it over his shoulder, his fingers stroking down the top to the crease and rubbed his thumb along her hip bone. He moved a little slower, delving in a few inches, pulling out almost entirely, grinding himself into her at his own pace. She cried out, her heel digging into his back, knee squeezing his side. His hand fell and he dragged his thumb along her clit, making her clench and jerk. He swiped it a few more times until she was tightening up and struggling to remember to breathe. He reached out for her boob; kneaded and squeezed, tweaking her nipple while he strummed her clit at the same time, and then she was coming again.

Her eyes rose to his automatically and didn't close the whole time she was climaxing around his dick, which he slowed down and rode out her spasms. Panting, skin glazed in sweat, she reached for his hand and dragged it up from his chest. She brought his fingers to her mouth and kissed the pad of each one, rubbing her thumb deep into his palm, before she parted her lips and took his forefinger inside and twirled her tongue around it. Raising a brow, she got her message across as she moaned and sucked his digit like it was an extension of his cock. She nipped the tip and then snapped her hips. "Come in me, Noah."

He let her leg fall from his shoulder and leaned down across her, his hands pressed into the couch to hold him up. He kissed each nipple, licking them just once a piece, before he rose up and caught her mouth. And then he was thrusting inside her deeper; harder; quicker. She gripped the back of his arms and held on, her knees raising up and biting his sides as he rode her. Their kisses were sloppy; just lips pressing hard against each other, teeth gnashing; he was so focused on how she felt, on getting as far inside her as he could. He could feel her shaking from the inside out; her fingers flexing against his biceps; her breaths panting against his mouth. She keened; a pleading noise from the back of her throat that vibrated through his tongue. Her arms lifted up and wrapped tight around him, drawing his upper-body right down on top of her so only his hips were moving. His face fell to her shoulder, his forehead sticky with sweat, clinging to her skin.

He ground himself into her until he was rubbing hard against her clit with each thrust. She cried out, her nails digging into his neck, his back. He could already feel her shaking, so close; he moved faster. Raising his head, he looked at her; he wanted to see her face, her eyes, he wanted to know it was  _really_ her and not all those other brunette's he hooked up with over the years and just  _pretended_ were her. She met his eyes and then she inhaled deeply, breathing him in, and he remembered… He remembered that she'd been fingering herself to  _his_ scent for six fucking years. He came shouting her name; shattering so hard his arms gave out even though his hips kept moving, pumping. And she cried out at the same time; his name a broken whimper as she shook and clenched and panted desperately.

He could feel her heart beating against his chest; or maybe that was just his trying really fucking hard to jump right out of him.

He rested his cheek against her shoulder and waited for his bones to stop feeling like liquid. She rubbed her hands up and down his back in soothing circles.

"'m I crushing you?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes open. Fuck, he was suddenly really tired.

"A little," she admitted.

He started pushing himself up but then she was hugging him tighter and he couldn't move.

"I like it."

He cocked a brow, not sure how suffocating was cool, but whatever.

She was soft beneath him; all warm, sticky skin, and so tiny he was surprised she could take any of his weight. Her fingers danced against his neck, dragging through his hair and tickling down the nape.

He brought his hand up around her shoulder and skimmed his fingers along the side of her neck and shoulder, in the same place he knew she liked to be kissed, liked to have his teeth dig in just a little. She shivered against him and stretched one of her legs down the couch before skimming her heel back up his calf.

"We haven't touched each other since the wedding night," she murmured.

It really shouldn't hurt that she was bringing up Finn, especially when he was balls deep inside her, but it did. Still, he asked, "Like… at all?"

"Well…" She blew out a breath. "He kisses me every morning before he goes to work, but…" She walked her fingers across his shoulder and traced the lines of his bicep. "Since I told him I didn't want to have children yet… That Lima was never somewhere I thought of returning to, he's been… distant."

"You knew he wanted to go back," he reminded. "He's been talking about it since you guys got back together…"

"I know," she huffed. "And I've been talking about Broadway since the day we  _met_ …"

He lifted his head, chin resting on her, and quirked his brows. "This is Finn we're talking about, babe… He's not the brightest crayon in the box…"

She stared at him a long moment before reaching up and tracing one of his eyebrows with her thumb. "Sometimes I wonder if we're in the  _same_ box… Or if perhaps I'm Crayola and he's… some knock-off brand."

He grinned. "Or he's a crayon and you're a permanent marker."

Her lips pursed to hide her smile. "Perhaps." Her thumb wandered down to his cheek bone. "What are you, Noah?"

"Whatever you need me to be…" He sighed, eyes falling to her lips. "Whatever you'll  _let_ me be."

She looked torn then, gaze wandering away. "You're  _his_ best friend, I—"

"Rach." He cocked a brow. "I followed  _you_ to New York… Hell, I only got  _in_ to NYU because of you…" He shook his head. "He's my boy… Has been for like, ever, but…" He stared at her until her eyes returned to his. "You're everything."

She swallowed tightly and chewed her lip. "I'm also a  _mess_."

"A  _hot_ mess," he argued, smirking.

"Yes, well, it's  _mostly_  your fault."

He snorted. "I'll take the blame for this one." He pushed up then, smiling as she protested, trying to pull him back down. Grabbing her hand, he hauled her to her feet. "Shower?"

She frowned thoughtfully and then nodded.

They held hand, fingers tangled, as they walked to his bathroom.

While he was soaping up her hair and she was washing his chest, he wondered how it could be so  _easy_ to be like this with her. How she could so casually just hop into a shower with him and hum show tunes under her breath while she rubbed soap into his awesomely naked body. When he used the shampoo to push her hair up into a faux-hawk, she just rolled her eyes, reached up and scrubbed soap into his hair and told him, "I rather miss that monstrosity."

He kissed her under the spray of the shower and wondered if she'd be there when he woke up; he decided to stay awake as long as possible, even if he had an early class tomorrow.

She stole his toothbrush and stood naked, scrubbing her teeth clean for exactly three minutes. She watched the clock the whole time to be accurate.

Padding across the apartment, she climbed into his bed and patted the other side. "I hope you realize I'm a cuddler," she told him seriously.

He laughed, opened his arms, and laid back against his pillows with her snuggled into his side.

With the lights out and her breathing evening out, he stared up at the ceiling, watching the cityscape dance there, all bright and moving lights. He stroked her hair absently, noticing how it curled as it dried.

"Noah…?" she murmured.

"Yeah?"

"I won't hate you," she promised. She nuzzled her nose against his chest. "I may hate  _myself_  though."

"You'll figure it out, y'know?" He looked down at her, staring up at him through the dark. "Whatever it is you want…"

She nodded, resting her face back against him. "I'm sorry if I freak out tomorrow… I tend to be neurotic."

"S'good… 'm surprised you've lasted this long."

"Mmm… Tequila's a fantastic mood stabilizer."

He snorted. "I'll stock up."

She giggled sleepily.

A few minutes later, he heard her snore for the first time.

She woke up at six the next morning, sprung up out of bed, dragged on her clothes, apologized about  _eight_ times, and then ran out of his apartment.

He hadn't even moved from the bed, just watching her go.

Like every time before, he let his chance pass him by. Well, except for the sex thing, he totally rocked that, but… Even now, all those excuses he'd had that he was only hung up on her 'cause she was the only chick he didn't bone, they were all proven way fucking wrong. He wanted her. All of her. The crazy and the Broadway and the sex kitten. He didn't know how long it was going to take or if she'd totally block him out of her life as soon as the full weight of what they did hit her, but he was going to wake her the hell up to what they were; what they could be.

She didn't shut him out.

She also didn't leave Finn.

Finchel repeated the same cycle of miscommunication and Puck stood on the sidelines. Only this time, when Rachel was worked up and she needed to talk to a friend, she went to him, and they wound up in bed, and it was better every damn time. It was never just sex for him, but he couldn't say the same for her. Every morning, she got up and she went back to her husband and she tried again, and again, and  _again_  to make it work. She wanted New York, he wanted Lima. She wanted Tony's, he wanted babies. She wanted an equal partner, he wanted the girl who worshiped him in high school.

For ten months, it went on and on and on.

He graduated from NYU and started his job search immediately after; she and Finn took him out for celebratory drinks, but when they got into a fight, Finn ditched. Rachel, pissed and worked up, went home with him instead and he considered the three times they fucked a much better graduation present. She stuck around long enough to make breakfast but then she went home and tried to fix things with her husband.

He didn't fight her. He sat back, watched and waited.

He took her to bed when she showed up looking like a mess, crying or angry or just  _tired_. The first handful of times it was just rough, hard sex; fucking her until she cried his name and begged him to come already, she couldn't take any more stimulation. Then it changed; it turned into that slow lovemaking he always thought she'd want; exploring her head to toe. Long minutes spent just kissing her lazily, rubbing his hands all over her body until she was vibrating with desire. And then there were those few times that she came right to him after work, crawled into his bed or into his lap if he was watching TV, and just asked him to hold her. She'd fall asleep with her ear pressed to his chest and his hand stroking through her hair. He wondered if she knew what she was doing; if she realized that when she wanted to feel comfortable or safe or to just relax, she came to him.

By month eight, it was starting to wear on him. He loved her. He  _really_ fucking loved her. They'd spent their night eating cold Chinese food and had a 70's classics lyrics war. She was wearing his jersey again and her hair was wrapped up in some messy, floppy ponytail on top of her head. When her phone rang and it was Finn, she ignored it; she didn't look upset or worried, she just hit ignore and then turned back to him and said, "Imagine – John Lennon."

He grinned and sang, " _You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one…_ "

She swayed back and forth and then hopped up. "It's guitar time."

He laughed, shaking his head. "It's  _always_ guitar time."

She found his case and pulled out his baby, carefully bringing it back to him. "It's not my fault you're so talented, Noah… I only reap the rewards."

He half-smiled, throwing the strap over his shoulders and cradling it in his lap. "You want Lennon or—?"

"Sweet Caroline," she interrupted, shaking her head.

He stared at her a long moment and then nodded. "You got it, babe."

It was one of her favorites; sometimes she asked him to hum it to her while she fell asleep. He wondered sometimes if Finn noticed she spent most of her nights away from home; that every other day she spent in somebody else's bed. He decided he didn't care, as long as she kept coming back to his.

Later that night, when they were both naked and spent and panting into the dark, he turned toward her. "You think he knows?"

She looked over at him. "I'm not sure he cares."

He frowned. "Course he  _cares_ …" He ran a hand over his head and shoved up to his elbows. "He loves you; he just loves himself more."

She sighed, rolling onto her side. "What would you do if you were in his place, Noah? If—"

"Babe, if you and me were married, you wouldn't be boning anybody else and we wouldn't have the same problems," he interrupted.

She went quiet. "No, you're probably right… Even if I disprove of your vernacular."

He smirked, rolling over and on top of her, pinning her there beneath his hips. "Sexing? Fucking? Screwing?"

She sighed, exasperated. "Noah…"

He bent his head and rubbed his chin against hers teasingly. "You want me to call it making love, Rach?"

Her eyes met his.

"Takes two, doesn't it?"

Her brows furrowed.

" _I_  can make love to  _you_ , 'cause I—"

She covered his mouth with her hand quickly, her eyes widening.

When he licked her palm, she glared. "Really?"

He shrugged, quirking a brow.

She drew her hand back, wiping it on his shoulder. "I'm sorry… I-I didn't mean to do that but—"

"I get it." He rolled off of her, hating how his chest ached.

"Noah, please, it isn't like that." She followed him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "My feelings for you, they're… they're so complicated and deep and… and they've been a part of me for so long that I-I'm not sure I can  _verbalize_ what they are." She pressed her face into his back. "But I also have a husband and this whole situation is so…" She blew out a long breath. "I'm still figuring out what I want… Please… Don't hate me for that."

His jaw ticked and he grabbed up her hand, playing with her fingers. "I don't think I know  _how_ to hate you, Rach…"

"If it makes you feel better, you could try slusheeing me again, that seemed to work once upon a time."

He turned over to glare at her, opening his mouth to argue only to see her eyes dancing with amusement.

"You totally just played me."

She smirked, climbed on top of him and shrugged. "Rachel Berry for the win."

He squeezed her thighs in his hands and shook his head. "Devious."

"Proudly so." She bent and met his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. She sunk into it further with a moan and stroked her hands through his hair. "Noah…" She bit her lip and raised her eyes to his. "If I'm hurting you in any way… You know I'll stop, don't you?"

That's what he was afraid of.

"I can take it," he murmured, and before she could argue he caught her mouth again and made her forget.

He got good at distracting her. She knew he loved her; she worried she was breaking his heart. He was pretty sure she was, or would.

It didn't stop him though.

Her and Finn's one year anniversary was two weeks away.

He hadn't seen Rachel in six days; a new record for them, really. Not one he liked.

When he heard the banging at his door, he thought it was her. He thought she was just in one of her frenzied 'Finn's a douche, fuck me 'til I feel better' moods, but when he swung the door open, he found her other, goofier, half standing there.

"Uh…" He looked away and then back. "Hey?"

So, he and Finn hadn't been hanging out in… well, nine or so months. Not since the graduation celebration that went bust. When he called, Puck made up excuses and got off the phone. He couldn't really do the 'listen to your bro whine' thing when he knew the reason behind it and was currently rocking her world four days of the week.

"Hey," he said, walking past him and into the apartment.

"Yeah, sure dude, come on in," he muttered sarcastically.

"Thanks, sorry." He started pacing. "I've just been really…" He waved his hands around his head. "Life's been… Y'know?"

"Yeah." He walked toward his kitchen. "You wanna beer?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, sure…" Distracted, he took a seat on the couch.

Puck shoved things around, noticing that a bunch of Rachel's vegan shit was mixed in with his. Note to self, he thought, don't let Finn in the fridge. Not that he was really smart enough to connect the dots, but just in case…

"Hey, dude… What's up with all the  _Shape_  magazines?" Finn asked, holding up a stack that were sitting on his coffee table.

Right, so maybe Rachel had kind of moved a lot of her girly shit in… "Uh… The chick's are… hot…"

Finn stared at the cover with the badass chick from Nikita on the cover in a black string bikini and then shrugged. He took the beer tossed at him and then sat back, cracking it open and frowning distractedly.

Everything was quiet for way too long while Puck took a seat in his armchair and picked at the label on his beer.

"I think Rachel's cheating on me," Finn suddenly blurted.

He stared, not really surprised or even all that worried. "Yeah?"

He looked up at him, staring a long moment. "Yeah."

"You talk to her about it?"

He glanced away and then down into his beer. "No… I tried to, a couple times, but…" He shook his head. "She's just… She's been really distant lately. Every time I bring up Lima and moving home, she just clams up and…" He sighed. "I don't get it. I thought… I thought we were supposed to have this—this perfect ending, y'know? Like I moved here, I got her back, and now… We're  _married_ and it's just… It's not  _working_ …"

Puck stayed quiet, figuring out what he wanted to say and what he shouldn't. All his years with Jiminy Cricket apparently gave him a filter; who knew. "Why'd you move here, Finn?" He cocked a brow. "Wasn't 'cause you wanted to hang with me, 'cause we hardly did any of that… So why'd you come to New York?"

He fidgeted, frowning. "Me and Quinn broke up… We were trying to make it work in Lima; I worked at the tire shop, she was getting her real estate license, it seemed perfect…" His jaw ticked. "And then Sam came back and she… She suddenly decided she didn't want to be stuck in Lima; she wanted to see what else was out there…" He licked his lips and glared darkly. "So she left and I… I realized I was with the wrong girl. It wasn't me, it wasn't Lima, it was  _Quinn_ …" He looked over at him. "It's always been Rachel for me, Puck. I mean, even when I was with Quinn or Santana, I still always thought about her…" He shrugged. "So I decided to go for it, y'know? I'd get her back and we'd… make it work."

 _Unbelievable…_ "So Quinn left you and you thought you could make Rachel fit into that empty space she left behind?"

"What?" His brows furrowed. "No. That's not—"

"Think about it, dude… You were happy with Quinn. You liked your life. It wasn't until she left that you thought, 'oh, hey, I bet Rachel still wants me…'"

He frowned. "It wasn't like that. I… I  _love_ Rachel… And I  _thought_ she loved me."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You loved that she thought you could do no wrong… That the girl you knew in high school would've done  _anything_ for you…" He stared at him searchingly. "She's not that girl any more. She's had a long time to grow up and out of that little puppy dog phase where she chased you around…" He clenched his teeth, trying to reign in his temper. "She never wanted to be in Lima. That's  _why_ she worked her ass off to get to New York and now…" He blew out an exasperated breath. "Now you're trying to tell her that everything she wants and everything she's got, isn't worth it… That she should just give it up and go back home to Buttfuck, Ohio and live the middle-class life with you…" He shook his head. "Look, I've been trying not to get in the middle of your shit, but  _dude_ … Get over yourself."

"Wait, what?" He put his beer down on the coffee table with a loud clink. "You think I don't know how hard she's worked or how much this all means to her? 'Cause I  _do!_  Rachel's the most talented singer I've ever known."

"And that's not  _all_ she is!" He leapt up from his chair. "She's also funny and bossy and manipulative. She'd be a cat lady if her landlord would let her and she gives money to  _every_ homeless person she sees; legit, whole  _paychecks_  have probably gone to those dudes! She's scared of clowns and she still has gold star stickers that she puts on shit even though she's twenty-fucking-three years old! She's not just her  _voice_ , Finn. And she's not just your  _wife!_  She's got a fuckload of dreams and she's only  _just_ starting to get them, so give me one good damn reason she should move to Lima with you,  _seriously!_ "

"Because here I'm not  _good enough_ for her!" he shouted, standing up to meet him. "Here I'm just some Lima  _nobody_  that's just barely scraping by!  _There_  I can provide for her! In Lima, I'm  _somebody!_ I run the tire shop and people  _know_ me! Here I'm just some lowly office worker that went to community college and really doesn't like show tunes!" He threw his hands up. "Is it so wrong to want to be  _better_ than what I am? To want to be somebody she could be  _proud_ of?"

He licked his lips and looked away, breathing out a long, heavy sigh. "Look… I get it. It's hard moving from Lima to here and trying to find your footing. Maybe we make it look easy, but when we first got here, we were confused as fuck and trying really hard not to look it." He shrugged. "But we're New Yorkers now, Finn… Rachel  _loves_ it here and she  _hates_ Lima…" He stared at him. "You  _know_ how shitty life was for her there…"

"We're not teenagers anymore… It'll be better now," he argued.

"No… It won't." He crossed his arms over his chest. "She won't go… She'll never move back." He stared at him firmly. "She won't  _pick_ you, Finn."

His jaw clenched and ticked. "But she'll pick  _you?_ "

He went still.

Eyes narrowed, Finn cocked a brow. "You really think I'm that stupid?"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Shut up," he interrupted, his voice dark. "Rachel reads Shape… She's got a subscription, but I haven't seen them around the apartment in months…" He swallowed tightly. "And this beer? You like Miller… This is Bud Light… The only kind Rachel will drink… And you have  _plants_  all of a sudden… Y-You have pictures of fucking  _flowers_ on your wall, dude…" He grabbed up a throw pillow off the couch. "Your apartment's color-coordinated for fucksakes and it's not  _you_ , so…" He licked his lips, breathing in deeply and looking away to stare out a window a long moment. "How long?"

He was quiet for a long second. "Awhile."

He glared back at him. " _How… Long?_ "

"Ten months."

He let out a choked laugh and slid back to sit on the couch, head falling to his hands.

Puck stood there awkwardly, waiting for the inevitable blow up.

" _Why?_ " Finn looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. "Why  _again?_ Why  _her?_ " He shoved to his feet, vibrating with anger.

"I love her," he said simply.

"Y- _You_  love her…" He laughed incredulously.

Puck glared. "Why is that hard to believe?" He shook his head. "We've been friends since senior year… We came to  _New York_ together… I've been a bigger part of her life than you  _ever_ were."

"She's my  _wife!_ " he yelled.

"Yeah, the biggest  _mistake_ she ever made," he shouted back.

He gaped. "I- _I'm_ the mistake?" He scoffed. "If you're so important to her, then why is she still married to  _me?_ "

His jaw ticked. "She's figuring her shit out."

"This is bullshit…" He shook his head. "This is…" He fisted his hands. "You had  _years_ , why the hell did you wait until she was with  _me?_ "

"Wasn't like that…" he muttered. "Look, I didn't think she wanted me back. I tried to talk her out of marrying you, she didn't go for it. I figured that was  _it_. She'd be happily married and I'd just… get over it…" Not that he ever came  _close_. "But then you fucked up and she—she turned to me…" He shrugged. "I took my chance."

"You took my  _wife!_ "

"Maybe if you were the right guy for her, she wouldn't have been so easy to  _take!_ "

Finn reached for him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "What  _is_ it about you? Why does she always go back to  _you?_ "

"Are you  _kidding_ me?" He stared at him like he was an idiot. " _You_ pushed her away!  _You_ tried to tell her she should go back to Lima!  _You_ thought what you wanted mattered more!" He shoved him off and away from him. "I loved Rachel when she was crazy! When she cried in pints of Tofutti ice cream with every rejection call! I'm the one who told her she'd make it even when they told her she wasn't pretty enough or her nose was too big or she had to lose a few pounds! I've been there through all her heartbreak over you, over and over and  _over_ again. I was the guy putting all the pieces back together; the guy who's  _still_ putting her back together. I'm the guy who held her hair back when her first college party ended with her hugging the toilet. I'm the guy who took her out for drinks when she got her first role and then again when it flopped before she ever saw the curtain go up. I've  _been_ the guy in her life for seven years and I've been trying to  _not_ be in love with her the whole damn time. So  _fuck you_  if you think that just 'cause your feelings are hurt and your Quinn-replacement doesn't want to fit into her role that I'm gonna just walk away and let you get your screwed up happily ever after!"

"You know what, Puck?  _Screw you!_ " He turned and walked toward the door. "She might've slept with you, but she  _married_ me…" Standing in the doorway, he stared back at him. "She  _already_ picked me… She  _always_ picks me." With that, he slammed the door and left.

Puck stood staring at it a long while before yelling, "Fuck!" and kicking over his coffee table.

Bud Light spilled across the carpet and he spent all of six seconds not caring before he figured cleaning it up was better than hearing her rant about stains and whatever time she'd waste trying to get it up.

He was so fucked, it was ridiculous.

She didn't come over that night. Or the next.

She didn't pick up his calls and he didn't see or hear from her for the next two weeks.

Every day that passed felt like a knife to the chest; she was picking him. She was really fucking picking him.

The day of her and Finn's anniversary, he holed up in his apartment, calling in sick to work. When he realized how empty his fridge was, 'cause apparently she'd been keeping it stocked and he'd just gotten used to it, he ordered in Chinese food and popped in his  _How I Met Your Mother_  dvd's. Barney was his boy, but he skipped every episode that he was in love with Robin. Then he went back and watched them anyway.

He was half-asleep and a tiny bit drunk off his old friend Jose when he heard a key in the lock. He went stock still when he remembered he showed her where he kept the spare key. When the door swung open, he lifted up slowly, not sure what he should be expecting. She had bags in her hands; grocery bags. She kicked the door shut, dropped them on the kitchen counter, and started taking things out. She didn't say a word, didn't even look at him. He watched her move, wanting to be pissed but a little too happy just to be  _seeing_ her to try very hard. When she was done putting everything where she wanted it, she carefully folded the bags and put them under the sink with the others, and then she grabbed her purse and circled to sit down on the couch beside him.

"We need to talk," she began.

He sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Seriously? 'Cause I think I got the message already…"

Her brows furrowed.

"You peaced out on my three weeks ago, Finn already dropped in to have the 'stop fucking my wife' conversation  _two_ weeks ago, and you haven't even answered my  _calls_ , so—"

"My lawyer advised me not to," she interrupted.

"Your…  _what?_ "

She took a deep breath. "My divorce lawyer told me that I should cut off contact with you while he put together the paperwork for my divorce… Since I have a larger income than Finn does and because of my infidelity, he thought it might look bad and possibly provide a good reason for Finn to demand alimony or restitution." She fiddled with her hands. "I didn't mean to just cut you off, but when Finn started acting differently I thought that if I could just stay away he might not catch on and, well, we could avoid a much larger mess."

He stared at her blankly.

She chewed her lip. "Noah, will you please say something?"

He tried to wrap his head around it all. "You're divorced?"

She frowned. " _Getting_ divorced. Currently, I'm officially  _separated_."

"And it's… it's  _definite?_ "

Her eyes met his seriously and she smiled faintly. " _Very_."

His gaze fell and he stared at her hand, where her finger was bare; no diamond engagement ring and no wedding band. "You're serious…"

"I shouldn't have let it go on as long as it did…" She shook her head. "There was a part of me that felt like a failure. We were hardly married a few hours before I started to question what I'd done and then… When he started with all of that moving back to Lima stuff, I…" She frowned. "I should've known that getting married wasn't going to fix all the cracks in our relationship, but the high school girl inside me wanted so  _badly_ for him to be the one…" She looked up at him earnestly. "That I forgot that the woman I'd become had let go of that ridiculous dream and grew up… That she found a much more suitable other half in a man she wasn't sure saw her the same way… That she was already in love with her best friend and trying to fall for her high school sweetheart was pointless…"

He swallowed tightly. "You…"

She nodded. "I loved you. I-I  _still_ love you."

He blew out a breath. "Crazy…" He shook his head. "You're crazy, y'know that?"

Lips pursed, she rolled her eyes.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, dragging her over until she was nearly in his lap. "Seven years, Rachel… Seven fucking years I've been in love with you and you couldn't just gimme a  _sign_? A fucking  _smoke-signal_ would'a worked."

She laughed lightly. "Obviously I misjudged your feelings."

"Why'd you stay with him? Why'd you try so damn hard after we got our shit together?"

Her smile faded. "It was hard to let go of a dream for reality…" Her brows furrowed. "It wasn't that he was better or that I loved him more… It was just that I had married him,  _committed_ myself to him… I'd resolved to let go of you and then… Then I  _had_ you and  _Noah_ …" Her gaze softened. "You were  _amazing_ …" At his smirk, she grinned. "We were amazing _together…_ "

"Fuck yeah we are."

She reached up and trailed her hand down his face. "I'm sorry it took me so long… That I spent so much time putting us both through that misery."

He nodded, burying a hand in her hair at the nape of her neck. "Whatever, I got you now, right?" He stared at her searchingly. "No more bullshit, no more husbands or sneaking around… No more leaving here way too fucking early in the morning…"

She grinned. "No, none of that…" She slid her arms around his neck. "It's just us… Figuring it all out together."

"We got this," he told her strongly.

She bit her lip. "I know."

He leaned in and caught her lips, putting the last three weeks, hell the last seven years, of wanting her and not quite having her into every slant of their mouths and reach of his tongue. She moaned, sinking into him. And that night, he made love to his girlfriend. Not Finn's wife. Not the girl he wanted but never really got. He laid her out on his bed and he fucked her until sunrise and then he held her and he fell asleep knowing she'd be there when he woke up. She'd be there tomorrow and the day after. She'd be there for a long fucking time to come. And he couldn't wait.

Like he wanted, like he expected and she promised, she stayed. And they worked.

Finn moved back to Lima, married a local girl and got his perfect ending.

Rachel moved into Puck's apartment and they were married in a small ceremony a year later; his ma cried the whole damn time.

She got her first Tony when she was twenty-five. Five more would follow.

They had their first son when they were thirty; they got a bigger apartment but they never left New York.

Their daughter arrived two years later; screaming louder than her mother could sing.

Rachel lived out her dreams and her life on stage, under the bright lights of Broadway and Puck sat front row and center for her every show. And he was right; where Finn didn't fit at her side, what he couldn't give her, Puck could and did. He gave her everything she wanted and needed and she was happier than ever being Rachel Barbra Puckerman (Berry on stage). She picked him every day of her life from that day forward and she never regretted it. They had their fights, their struggles, but they always stayed together. And the make-up sex was mind blowing.

When he looked back, he figured it was worth it. They wasted seven years, she married the wrong guy the first time around, and she had a ten month love affair with her best friend, but in the end they got exactly what they wanted and deserved. Each other. Proving reality beat dreams any day of the week.

[ **End.** ]


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